


Stars

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Stargazing, originally posted on Quotev
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:23:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night, Enjolras stumbled upon a stargazing Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ConnectingSmallDots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConnectingSmallDots/gifts), [my bestest friend ever](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+bestest+friend+ever).



In a small, winding backstreet of Paris, amongst the dimming lights of candles flickering in windows and the silvery mist below the moon, there stood a little café. Dark, and yet seeming to exude light more than the pale moon dominating the night sky, it lay unassuming and quiet at the end of a cobbled pathway. It was here that many drank themselves close to death; many sat contemplating their lives both behind and ahead of them; and many simply came to enjoy the quiet yet busy atmosphere.

Grantaire, however, did all three regularly.

But tonight he found himself entirely away from the café, instead lying on the cool, rough pavement outside. A bottle in one hand and the other resting on his stomach, he gazed up at the sky with partially closed eyes, making out nothing but an endless black void littered with dim stars. As black as his hopes and as dark as his future, he thought, tapping the glass bottle he held lightly against the ground as he reflected on the day's happenings.

"This will not change a thing."

Enjolras had only met his gaze with a fire in his eyes and a blaze ready on the tip of his tongue. "Tell me, Grantaire, when was the last time you went out into the world to experience change for yourself? You are only capable of indoor life: of drinking, complaining, and getting in the way."

"You have not tested my capabilities, mon ami."

"Do not call me your friend, unless you truly mean so; and I doubt that you mean anything you ever say."

"I mean every turn of my tongue, for you."

"Tell me that again once you have proven otherwise." 

And so Grantaire decided to do so, leading to his lying on the ground in the mist. Had Enjolras cared enough, he thought bitterly, perhaps he would take back his comments about indoor life. Had he seen anything but his beloved Patria, he may begin to see the innermost workings of Grantaire's mind. Then again, not many people did.

He didn't know how many seconds, minutes or hours had passed, but it was still dark and the moon was still in the sky when Grantaire heard the door gently swing open behind him. Boots clicked against the pavement: one, two, three steps - and then stopped.

"Grantaire."

Grantaire did not turn around, or move from his spot, only tilting his head slightly in order to see this person addressing him. He was met with the sight of a cloud of blonde hair, a red jacket, and the all-too-familiar face of Enjolras.

"You have come to mock me." was all he said, closing his eyes.

Silence hung in the air like the mist surrounding them, cold and foreboding. Grantaire could practically hear the words he had meant to say instead, floating away to the land of what could have been.

But before he could catch them again, draw them back and rewind time to say the right thing, there was the sound of someone - Enjolras - settling onto the ground next to him.

Once again, he did not look over at him. Simply opening his eyes to look at the stars, and relish in the fact that perhaps Enjolras - his mighty leader, his fine marble prince, his unrequited love - was looking at the same star, far away in the infinite sky, as he was.

The silence had somehow shifted. Rather than empty and haunting, it now became brimming with the hope that the other would say what the first person wished them to say, that perhaps their earlier quarrel could be forgotten, that maybe the world would seem a happy place for just one moment.

Grantaire expected he would be the one to speak; he always was. And so he was startled to feel a sharp contrast from the cold pavement and the cool glass of his bottle being prised out of his hand, replaced by Enjolras' fingers intertwined around his like fragile ivy climbing up the side of a fortress.

"I'm sorry." was all Enjolras said, and Grantaire understood immediately. He didn't know when he fell asleep, but he was sure that he could feel Enjolras' warm hand in his, comforting and precious, throughout the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know why they're lying on the pavement if I'm honest.


End file.
